That Was Me

It’s hard to explain why I didn’t write for the whole year of 2015. I’m recalling the main reason why, but I know there wasn’t a single reason. There were plenty little reasons I can pinpoint but I don’t have the sole reason. Did you ever feel that, like losing your desire to voice out what you think and what you want to say?

I did. And it was that year. I lost my love for writing. I lost the satisfaction of letting it all out in one sitting, with your fingers spontaneously moving with your brain. I’ve been numbed by many difficulties I had to face at that age where I needed the comfort most: a parent’s health deteriorating, betrayal of a close friend, betrayal of the person I love, lies from trusted people, family misunderstandings, my own health going down, and my grades little by little failing. I had to endure it all by myself because I shut myself away from people trying to reach out to me.

I declined care from most of the people because I didn’t know who to trust anymore. I pretended I was okay, it was the best escape. I was making surface interaction with most of the people because I felt that once I let them in, I was giving them the opportunity to destroy me. In short, I had to shut down to save myself. It was a hard time. But it worked that way. I kept my nose above the water. I could still breathe.

I tried writing, but I never felt okay. Eventually I stopped. For that whole year.

Because I know me. I know how this brain thinks. And I most definitely know the contents of my heart. I am passionate and loving and loyal and honest, and these traits were also the reasons why I let myself destroy me.

How did I get up? How did I start to open up again? How did I realize it’s time to stop and start again?

I don’t really have the answer. I guess, time just healed the pain, it wasn’t a total healing, but it healed. And there was it: acceptance and forgiveness. I was so tired of the same cycle over and over again. I was so tired to be that girl shutting down her environment. I was so tired that of that set up. And I was so tired to be alone.

And I started reaching out. I accepted help and I craved for it. And slowly, it made little things better. I went running. I tried the adult coloring books. I focused on my music. I learned new arts and crafts. And I started writing. And it felt good. And it helps. And it’s safe.

I’m kinda afraid to repeat the same thing now. With these life dramas I constantly face from time to time, it is suffocating. It’s the same feeling two years ago. But I decided not to go with the same path again. I’ve been through the dark and I know I’m scared of it.

Because I believe, we accept the love and care and needs we deserve. And it’s all fair in this kind of war.

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Well. This is, for most of the time, the hardest part to fill in. Maybe because I am not the type of person who loves to talk about herself. But in this site you can read the pieces of my life, my ups and downs, my victories and defeats. This is the only outlet where my brain can team up with my heart. For everyone who can't construct the words in the clouds of life. Happy reading! ❤️
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